John's New Job
by DevotedReaderForYou
Summary: Subtittled: The one where Dean gets powers. John Winchester is a single father juggling what he learned about the supernatural with parenthood so when five year old Dean is blessed by a giant Inuit wolf with something a little extra it actually brings his world together. AU, Pre-Series, JohnPov, Wee-Chesters, GoodJohn, Pre-PsychicSam, Rated T for Canon Death/Gore
1. No Resume Required

**A/N: There are a couple of things that led to this story; first I'm off school for a month and I want to write one, I really want to try my hand at the cliche "The boys have powers" story and I love John. I think the oldest Winchester gets a really bad rep as a father and I'm not sure that's fair. So in my story Dean will be getting powers and John will be protective/supportive about it.**

 **In so many versions of this story it happens later in life and all John can see is a monster, one of the things he hunts. But what if the change happened early in his career as a hunter? Before he had too many preconceptions of the supernatural and before his boys would have thought to hide it from him? This is that story.**

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 **Chapter One: The Call**

When John Winchester was a marine Hell Week was the hardest thing he'd ever done. This was harder. John sat on the hood of his '67 Chevy Impala. He'd pulled over to the side of the road, too haunted by what the psychic Missouri had told him about the world to drive safely, trying to make a decision that would have more weight than he could possibly understand. John found himself going back to those five days. He'd thought of them often during his service and then later during his adjustment to civilian life. Right now knowing, fearing all the monsters in the world, there seemed nothing more important than that moment midway through hell-week when he decided he was going to make it, he was going to be a marine.

Soaked so far down to the bone in mud and filth that he couldn't feel his extremities anymore. Barely able to stand from the exhausting and pointless labor of the day before. Held up only by sheer will and pig-headed stubbornness. Listening to the droning voice of the drill sergeant demanding his resignation and wondering why he was putting himself through this.

Despite being dry and not shaking with the debilitating effort of keeping his balance, he was more connected with that younger man then he'd been in years. He remembered the tear tracks that stood out against the grime on his face and the way the salt stung his skin, raw from the powerful wind. How what he wanted most in the world was to collapse to his knees and just sleep.

He was in that place now. Wanted to lie down and quit. Wanted to take his precious sons, all that was left of his beautiful wife, and hide. Turn away and never take their heads out of the sand. But that kid, knee deep in mud, didn't. John looked into the clear Kansas sky, seeing nothing but blood and fire and tried to remember why it was that that stupid kid from years ago kept standing; why had he kept going? It would have been easier to quit.

Missouri's normally cheerful face grave with unwanted truth as she recited the evil out there in the world swam before his eyes. "There are people out there you know. It's not all darkness and monsters Mr. Winchester. There's hero's too."

He'd glared at her and demanded around the lump in his throat why his wife hadn't been saved, "If there really are people out there like you say, who know about these things and can fight them-" He tried in vain to swallow the lump in his throat as Mary, sweet Mary, on the ceiling came forcefully back from the corner he'd tried to shove her in. When he spoke again his voice was softer, pleading. "Why then am I widower and my children motherless? Why did this happen if there are people out there who could have protected her?"

It's a hard thing to see a man like John Winchester vulnerable, something about it just feels wrong. "John, don't you think for one second that if your wife could have been saved-" She paused and there was regret there for her too. "If anyone would've known she'd been in danger; they would've come and done all they could for your poor family. If I'd've known, John, I would've done something." She looked down and sighed, "Truth is John, there's not nearly enough hunters in this world to save everybody. You just can't."

People are underestimated. It's true, it happens all the time. Life deals a blow that's devastating like divorce or unexpected death. The usual tragedies that everyone can relate too. Some people hunker down into a downward spiral, self-medicating and losing themselves in addictions to keep them from thinking about what they've lost. Many times there's just one moment that changes the course. Where with a whole lot of courage a person takes the first step forward. With him and his sons, right now, their future was on the edge of a knife, teetering between fight and flight, and all he could think about was that stubborn kid from hell-week. What was so important about the kid he used to be?

Making it through hell-week was the precedent for how this decision was going to go. He'd already been pushed as far as he could go, hanging on with the tips of his fingers, making it by the skin of his teeth, and had kept to it. Had readjusted his grip, bit down like a bulldog and kept fighting. John realized that deciding moment for him had already happened.

Two hours after he had pulled over, hidden among some trees, John pulled back onto the road with a purpose. A journey is when the trip is more important than the destination. An adventure is a trip without a destination. A quest is a trip to accomplish a task. A crusade is a campaign for a cause. But a purpose? Is a job.

He remembered why that kid with steel mixed into the marrow of his bones and a tireless heart that pumped pure stubbornness kept going. It was his job and Winchesters don't leave jobs unfinished.

He didn't know the first thing about killing monsters or hunting ghosts but he knew he was going to, this was the beginning of his life long war against evil. John stepped into the car, the reassuring creak of the door swinging shut, the first disruptive noise since he turned off the engine, the sound of the only thing left from his life before the fire. Well, that and apparently his favorite leather jacket. John's face loosened, not a smile but a few of the lines on his forehead softened as he caught a glimpse of it in the rearview mirror. He'd been looking for that. Had asked Mary if she'd seen it the day before… He needed to get back to his boys. He needed to talk to Missouri, and it wasn't a conversation that they could witness, but he could have spent less time on the side of the road daydreaming about his days in the service.

When he finally reached the motel he and his boys were staying at and opened the door the boys were up and standing just inside the door frame. So close Deans nose must have been pressed against the surface of the door. Sammy was sniffing in Dean's arms.

Dean stared up at him with wide eyes, relief in every line of his body. John started, they were sound asleep when he left. Leaving the door open he dropped to his knees and reached around them wrapping them both in a tight hug, squishing baby Sammy between them. He could feel Dean's little heart fluttering in his chest. "Sorry I scared you Dean. Shh, it's okay I'm back now. I wont leave without telling you again." he muttered, pressing a kiss to his oldest boys forehead.

Dean still hadn't said a word since the fire. John searched Dean's eyes for acknowledgment of what he said, "I promise Dean, okay?" The doctor said nothing was wrong with him and he'd talk when he was ready. All John could do was be patient and not push him. He waited till Dean nodded slowly and his trembling little limbs calmed down before looking down at Sammy who was getting progressively noisier, little nose scrunched up and chubby cheeks turning an indignant shade of red.

John addressed Dean softly, focusing on the baby so he wouldn't have to look into his sons green eyes, exactly like his mothers. "You did good Dean, he's okay, just grumpy." He paused before continuing, that lump in his throat coming back, before he finished gruffly, "Sammy just misses Mommy too." Before he could start to think too much about how it was just the three of them now he tightened his grip and whispered "You know something Dean? I'm holding my whole world in my arms right now."

Baby Sammy, sick of being squished, went from mewling in annoyance to crying with gusto. "'A'ight, a'ight, I got you baby." Taking Sammy from Dean, John stood up and shut the door behind him, rocking the baby gently just like Mary had taught him. He watched Dean's eyelids get heavier. John was suddenly very grateful that despite his own uncertainty his sons' trusted him enough for his mere presence to soothe their fears. He took a shuddering breath, hoping he could live up to that trust. Holding his crying son and agonizing over his silent son, John was determined to try. He watched Dean's body slowly melt toward the floor in the way only children under the age of five can.

Picking Dean up as well, John walked carefully over to the bedroom, waiting till Sammy fell back to sleep before he slipped both boys back into the second bed still ruffled from when they got up. Before he could step away, Dean's tiny hands grabbed his shirt and held on, staring for a minute before beaming at him, bright even baby teeth standing out in the dark room. To this day, John thinks back on this moment as one of the most beautiful things he has ever seen.

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 **AN: Thanks for reading! I've planned this story to be five chapters long and am am really excited about it. I hope you like it and would love to hear from you!**


	2. First Day on the Job

A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed it was very encouraging! This chapters a little longer hope that makes up for the delay. I did my best to set-up the catalyst and to get in John's head and why he chose to raise the boys the way he did.

Also, I want to make it clear that John's perception of authority figures in no way reflects my own but the Winchesters in General have always been fairly disrespectful of authority, always feeling the law gets in the way of hunting and such. I hope my portrayal is as accurate as possible.

This was not Beta'd all my mistakes are my own. I did my best to edit but please let me know if you see anything that needs fixing; I am very open to criticism.

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Chapter Two; First Hunt

Richard was a simple man. He worked in a cubicle selling paper products to other people who worked in cubicles. He paid his taxes, never wore socks with sandals in public and couldn't figure out why this was happening to him. All he'd wanted was to go hunting!

He covered his mouth with his trembling dirty hands breath hissing harshly through his teeth in short bursts trying to listen to the forest over the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. He should have gone home hours ago!

The low growling from his unseen predator came again from directly behind him. A hysterical giggle danced around lips as he remembered the rabbit he'd wasted his bullets trying to get earlier. He wished he had them now. His fingers, slick with sweat scrambled over his rifle; struggling to reload with his last bullet. His giggling shuddered to a stop as he jerked the release back and forth trying to get the stuck barrel open. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely keep hold of the useless gun.

When the first whiff of foul breath hit him he dropped it from his trembling fingers, the metal clattered loudly against the forest floor, deafening against the silence of the trees. The forest was suddenly very, very silent; A drop of sweat ran down his nose. His last coherent thought was that the bunny feet hanging from his rearview mirror weren't nearly as lucky as the bunny he couldn't shoot earlier and both were luckier than he was.

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Two weeks later

Roseau, Minnesota is on the very edge of the united states; just outside the Lost River state forest. It's a beautiful area. Wonderful scenery, reasonable economy and a great community. The only thing it seemed to be missing was a competent police force.

John's eyebrows crept closer to his hairline. "You're telling me that your town has been the last seen location of at least fifteen missing person cases in the last six weeks and you're not shutting things down?"

The sheriff smiled tightly back at him and nodded, handing back the forged ID card. "That's right Mister Whitmorth." He stood up, straightening his tie.

Sheriff Tobertont reminded John of Mary's father, without any of the charm of being related to her. He was a crotchety old man; close to retirement in a sleepy town that had never had a serious crime spree, he refused to consider evidence to the contrary worth his time.

"Do you know why I'm not worried, young man?" Sheriff Tobertont continued without waiting for an answer. "I'm not worried because it's hunting season. Do you know what happens during hunting season?" Willfully ignorant and stubbornly determined to ignore anything out of the ordinary; John felt Sheriff Tobertont was a prime example of his future encounters with the nation's finest.

"Oh, I don't know, hunting maybe?" John tried tilting his head with an insincere smile and insolent shrug.

"Accidents, Mr. Whitmorth, accidents happen; and accidents aren't my jurisdiction." Sheriff Tobertont said stiffly folding his arms. "If you've got questions about people who get themselves lost in the woods you need to talk to the ranger service."

"I will; thank you for you time." John accepted the extended business card and turned to head out.

"One last thing, If there is something going on out there, however unlikely" The sheriff's crossed his eyes and narrowed his eyes "I want to be the first to know about it, before you sell the story to your paper. Are we clear?"

John couldn't resist the wide grin he shot over his shoulder at the grumpy sheriff as he shut the door. Having the chance to deny something of Samuel Judging from the wide grin Mr. Whitmorth shot him right before shutting the door he had no intention of bringing him into the loop if he did find something.

* * *

John went to the nearest payphone to check in at the motel. It was still rare to get a full sentence from Dean. Even after two years he still wasn't the same cheerful boy he'd been before the fire. Dean had once been a little jealous of Sammy but no more; it had been over a year since Dean had made the protecting of his younger brother his life' s purpose. Hovering over Sam like a guard dog, apparently conscious of the danger in their new world. John listened to the dial tone; wondering for what must have been the thousandth time if he was putting too much on the six year old. The phone picked up at the very first ring, "Dean?"

The sound of his young sons even breathing came over the speaker. John shook his head in exasperation "We're going to try again okay?" He paused to listen to Dean's little huff of annoyance. "I know it's boring but it's important. I'm going to hang up, call again, let it ring twice, hang up, call again and then you answer the phone, okay buddy?"

He listened to the familiar silence for a second before hanging up and calling like he said he would. "Good job Dean, you did it great! Sammy good?" Dean huffed again but John was getting to be quite the pro at distinguishing what his different responses and mostly correctly interpreted this one to mean "Of course Dad, what do you take me for?"

"I know, you do a great job, have you started the homework packets we got you yet?" The guilty silence hung in the air for a second before John let it go. "Try to get at least little done, we'll do the rest when I get back; first I've got to talk to a few more people and probably hit the library." John ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Can you hold down the fort that long?" The silence seemed pensive this time. John softened his voice a little hunching over the phone and trying to picture Dean in the motel room. "Dean, if you want me to come back in the middle or put some of this off till tomorrow you need to tell me okay? Just a yes or no."

The silence dragged on John decided that was a no. "I'm almost out of time on the phone, I'll come back with lunch for all of us in an hour okay? You want chicken strips again? Or maybe a burger?"

The new credit card had come and he could afford a little luxury even after buying the beginnings or his arsonal from an old, slightly legally dubious, military contact back in South Dakota and a few contacts of Missouri's she'd given him. He was prepared for the basics now. Hopefully that's what this case would turn out to be.

"Bacon." Dean finally said, not quite a whisper but still low enough that John had to strain to hear it over the soft fuzz of the phone line. "Okay, Bacon burger it is, I'll see you at lunch time. Be safe, watch Sammy."

Dean made a humming sound that John interpreted as one part "You too," and two parts "Good luck out there," with maybe a little "have a good first day in your new job hunting the supernatural." thrown in for good measure.

* * *

Dean waited for Dad to hang up before putting the corded phone back on its hook. He checked on Sammy, who was happily chewing on his damp sock. Before Dean walked over to the window facing the woods and picked up the complimentary binoculars again. The Rustic Roseau was unlike the copy and paste motel model Dean had spent the last six months in. A converted private home; it was prided on its singular view of the surrounding forest, hence the binoculars in every room, meant for tourists to spend the night in before heading into the park for hiking, camping fishing, hunting or even bird watching. Not that Dean understood or cared about any of that he was just happy to have something to play with and enjoyed the change of scenery.

He had spent the last several hours watching one spot in particular; where reflective eyes would pop up and stare back at him for a few minutes before disappearing into the greenery again. Dean hadn't been sure what he'd seen at first but with all the patience of someone who had nothing better to do he'd kept looking and it had paid off. They almost had a pattern to when they'd come up.

Dean looked back into the room at a whine from Sammy just as the eyes came back to look at him some more missing the distant yellow eyes coming closer. By the time he looked back outside they were gone. He didn't see them again before Dad came home with lunch and an armful of library books.

* * *

Finding this hunt was a long time in coming, apparently it takes a little more that a self proclaimed mission to totally change your lifestyle. First there was the funeral. If it can be called that when there was no body. Then he took some time to put everything in order, learned what he could theoretically, gathered the supplies before making the drop into the hunting community. Even now nearly seven months later there was still a lot to do.

He had to figure out how he was going to handle Dean going to school next year, he'd already missed kindergarten. Dean rarely deigned to use full sentences, how was he going to handle school? Not that Dean wasn't smart, on the contrary Dean was very astute. Bright, and patient enough to put up with everything John had put him through over the last two years. But John had his doubts that the average kindergarten teacher would recognize it, especially once John moved him around three or four times looking for apparently non-existent monsters. "Sorry about Dean missing school again. You see I needed to go searching for a ghost in the next town over and wanted my boys to stay behind protected walls while I was gone. Oh that test was worth 25% of his grade? Whoops; can you make another exception?" Somehow he doubted that would go over well.

He needed to start making progress on a network. Nothing gets you killed faster than not being able to call in backup when you need it. He needed training and experience before running headlong into fighting monsters. Above all his boys need to be protected. Raised so they don't hate him later too, if he could swing it.

John jumped as Dean tapped his face. John looked down at Dean's outstretched hand, holding Dean's long dead grandfathers journal. John had kept the journal all his life but had never used it. Never been the journaling kind, but unable throw the last thing of Henry Winchester away; he'd kept it. One thing's for sure, his sons wouldn't end up like him. No matter what was happening with hunting, he wouldn't leave his kids like his father had left him. They would do this together; as a family.

John took the leather journal from Dean, "Thanks bud." He opened it, glancing at the HW monogram before moving onto the few pages he'd caredfully penned in so far. Mostly with things Missouri told him about basic protections, he'd put them to use in every place they'd stayed and so far they'd worked. The latest pages were with the missing persons reports he'd carefully pasted them in

The first person reported missing was a Richard Baker, he disappeared three months ago, had gone hunting for the weekend and never come out. Two dozen people with the same story, all disappeared somewhere in the Lost River State Forest. Sheriff Tobertont wasn't wrong; it's not uncommon for people to get lost and for accidents to happen during hunting season but not in these numbers. There's definitely something in those woods.

The hours passed peacefully. Dean and Sammy played together for most of it. John took a break from research to take them outside. Sammy and Dean ran, crawling around respectively, while he did his own physical conditioning. They even helped a little, acting as a weight for several exercises; giggling all the while. John kept them from going to close to the edge of the woods. Just because they were miles away from the disappearances didn't mean nothing would happen to them in sparse woods surrounding the Motel.

He would go out again tomorrow, Talk to the park rangers do what he could to further distinguish the pattern from people who went hunting during hunting season. In the meantime he had to put his kids to bed.

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A/N: Dean is six coming on seven, John homeschooled him through kindergarten while he put himself through hunters training Sammy is two and being raised by John and Dean together.


	3. Research Time

**A/N First thanks for reviewing again! I really appreciate the time you've taken to read my story and talk about it 3**

 **Finally; the Winchesters started shooting rocksalt sometime while Sam was in college; he's surprised to see the change in the pilot so I don't have John loaded for that yet. (a detail not important to the plot but I thought I should explain myself.)**

 **Chapter Three; Research.**

John carefully assembled a portion of his new armory on his body. Using his stiff, slightly oversized leather jacket to conceal the bulges around his torso. Luckily it was cold outside so the layering wasn't out of place.

Not knowing exactly what he would come across and planning to investigate the woods while interviewing the forest ranger John carefully loaded his guns with everything. It wouldn't be a waste of ammunition if it saved his life. Silver for shapeshifters in his left shoulder holster, consecrated iron for wraiths/fairies in the right. Traditional bullets for more traditional threats at the small or his back, Silver knife doused in holy water in an ankle sheath and a waterproof sealed sack filled with table salt in his pocket. A lock pick set just in case, you never knew when you were going to need to step into somewhere classified. A camera and film to look the part of a reporter.

"Hand me my wallet would you Dean?" John asked absently after patting down his pockets checking off everything on his list. Dean moved from where he was sitting cross legged on the floor watching John get ready with wide eyed interest to the shared bedside table. He threw John the leather wallet; newly filled with: untraceable small bills, hunting license, drivers license, and press badge for one John Whitworth, a reporter looking into the increase in recent disappearances.

John caught the wallet with both hands quickly slipping it into his back pocket. "Alright. I'm going to go." John dropped to his knees in front of Dean looking him over carefully, straightening his shirt. "Ms. Kensly will be here in an hour. Be good, do what she says, keep Sammy safe, I'll be home soon." John briefly kissed his eldest forehead before he leaned over to do the same for Sammy. "Be careful, Stay out of the woods." John ordered as he shut the door behind him.

Dean stood still as he watched John close the door. He listened attentively to the muffled steps of biker boots on the gravel till they faded. Picturing his father opening the door to the black car and sliding inside as the Impala purred to life and rumbled away. Dean stood there for a moment longer before jumping slightly as the heater turned on and broke the silence. He quickly ran to the window and grabbed the binoculars. Scanning over the eary mists of the forest he looked for the yellow eyes; wondering if he'd even be able to see them in the day.

* * *

John leaned back on his heels doing his best to get the whole mark into frame before taking the picture. "And you've never seen this before?"

The park ranger, a young man who introduced himself with an easy smile and a friendly "Call me Roy." Shook his head. "I'm telling you, no way it's real. I've been in these woods my whole life and I can say for a fact that wolves don't get near big enough to make marks like that."

"It would have to be a wolf?" John questioned slinging the camera back around his body.

Roy nodded "If the scale were about six times smaller this would be exact to the wolves we have in this area." The ranger took off his hat and scratched his chin. "We don't have _any_ animals indigenous to the area with claws this big."

"So what, a freak of nature? Some kind of prank?"

The park ranger shrugged "your guess is as good as mine."

John surveyed the giant disruption among the massive trees picturing a giant of a wolf clawing the ancient pines. "Would a wolf, a normal one, have any reason to mark up the bark like this?"

Roy frowned thoughtfully, "Well sure, packs of wolves will mark tree's all around their territory; keeps their claws clean, see? Tells other wolves who lives there."

"Is this in the territory?" John asked

Roy's eyebrows raised "Now that you mention it, no. The nearest one ends fifteen miles north of here." He smiled at John. "You know it's funny, I was so stuck on how big these tracks were it didn't occur to me that they're in the wrong place."

John smirked back "That doesn't really help us figure out what made them though."

Roys laugh was surprised but genuine "No, I suppose not… Anything else you need Mister Whitworth?"

John blinked at the name, it was easy to forget he wasn't here as himself. "Yes actually, sorry to ask but is there anything you can think of that might connect the missing persons and the new tracks. Or anything that connects the people that went missing? Anything that separates them from the ones that don't?"

"Well if by that you mean they all go out alone." Roy answered with an easy nod.

John frowned "They went into the woods alone?"

"Every last one. We've thought it plenty odd but we encourage people to travel with a group for a reason." Roy soundeed apologetic. "Add that to the story, would you? Part of being prepared is having someone with you."

John nodded absently.

* * *

Dean looked up from his comic book with a start. Looking over the room quickly, he could see from the dim light that Ms. Kensley was asleep on the couch, Sammy still snoring on her chest. Dean blinked in confusion listening carefully to the drizzle of the rain and the soft thrum of the heater wondering what woke him up.

The voice, though low, came over the whole room in a wave, " _Pup."_ it called, shaking the walls.

Dean jumped upright looking fearfully over the room over again.

" _Come,"_ The voice commanded. " _all is well."_ Dean, hardly reassured, carefully got out of the bed shooting a furtive look over to where Samy and Kensley were napping before ducking around the bed to peek out the window.

* * *

The librarian looked at John over her glasses. "Wolves?"

John smiled disarmingly leaning up onto the counter. "That's right ma'm, just trying to understand the local recent cultural immigration significance."

The librarian pursed her lips but still got out from behind her desk to lead him into the shelves. She kept a shrewd eye on him over the next few hours. Wondering why a young man so different from her regular patrons, who more stalked then stepped; wearing leather of all things was interested in her local mythology section enough to come out in the rain.

" _Do you have a wish Pup?"_ Dean stood gaping at the colossus wolf filling his window. It wasn't clear where it was at first; standing just outside of the reach of the dim motel porchlight. The grey of its fur blending surprisingly well with the murky green shadows of trees. It's yellow eyes bright with reflected light. Even crouched low to the ground the tips of it's ears brushed the top branches of the tree. Dean held very, very still, mind racing.

" _Your wish pup, is it for strength pup?"_ Dean would have covered his ears if not for the instinctual knowledge that it wouldn't keep the heavy, growly voice out of his mind. The voice was louder now that he could see it. He kept eye contact with the massive beast. "Wish, what wish?" He thought drawing closer to the window slowly, curiously.

John read over the passage again. It ate people who were stupid enough to hunt alone. "Which," he wryly shook his head, "boded well for his personal safety as a novice single hunter of the supernatural of all things." It was also a giant wolf which would explain the claw marks all over the forest.

He checked the book out, along with a few others before heading over to a pay phone to call Missouri; see if she had any advice with the case. Then he'd better get back to the motel, he thought looking at his watch, he was paying Kensley by the hour.

Missouri was happy to hear from him. "I worry about you and yer boys, ya know that."

It was good to hear a familiar voice after so long under a different name. Even if it was painful. "It's good to hear from you too Missouri. The boys and I are fine, we're in Roseau Minnesota and I've found something."

Now that he was looking for it he could hear the shift from neighborly concern to a powerful psychic hunter. "Well, why didn't you say so? Tell me what'cha got."

John related what he had, quickly and efficiently covering all the pertinent information to the case: the number of missing people, the fact that they were all hunting alone, the size of the wolf marks, as well as how they were located outside of wolf territory.

"You got any idea what it is?" Missouri questioned once he'd finished with the debrief.

"One. An Amarok. It fits all the evidence, figured you could tell me how to get rid of it."

"An Amarok? I'll make some calls see what I can find on them. Don't go runn'in to any battles yet. I'll call once I find somethin'."

John agreed after checking his watch, he really needed to get back to the motel; he could feel his wallet getting lighter. He gave Missouri the number for the motel before hanging up and heading home.

Dean gasped dropping to the motel floor as though his strings had been cut. Pain burst through his body causing bright stars to dance before his eyes, obscuring the wolf looking down at him with a tilted head. Dean curled in on himself frantically clutching at his insides. It was hard to be sure; his current state not conducive toward clear thinking but the murmur of the wolf in the back of his mind seemed apologetic, that or pleased.

Sammy must have sensed something because he started wailing just about the same time Dean stopped thinking.

 **A/N: Finally traction! It only took a couple thousand words but we're covering what you came here for! The plan is to set up the world with this five chapter story then do a story focussing on Sam and Dean as adults with a handful of one shots covering various parts of their childhood and teenage years. That's what I'm really excited about, following psychic Sam and enhanced Dean but I felt it important to have a solid origin story that covers the differences between my fic and cannon. Also this seemed a reasonable writing goal to start with.**

 **The Amarok is a real thing! Found in Inuit mythology one of the things its most known for is gifting a misshapen boy with great strength by knocking several bones out of his body and training with him for a few weeks! I will be taking a creative license with the powers given and the process to get them but the monster is real!**

 **Real quick: a few timeline errors were pointed out to me in chapter two so I will be cleaning that up.**


	4. Family Emergency

**A/N: Big thanks to those who left reviews! I'm totally making all this medical stuff up. No knowledge of it at all. Please ignore anything you know to be impossible or let me know and I will do my best to fix it.**

John had to run through a crowd of people to get to his eldest. Everyone in the building seemed to have shown up to get in between him and his son, not an enviable position. Kensley, janitor, receptionist, other guests, the whole neighborhood was packed into his small, two bedroom motel room. John shoved past what felt like dozens of people, pushing them away and into each other. The crowd of people felt like one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you run you never move any faster or get any farther.

When he finally reached the center of the mob Dean was lying still. John dropped to his knees, scooping up the limp body of his son. Thankfully one of the people filling the space wasn't as useless in an emergency as the rest of them and had called 911 and the ambulance pulled into the parking lot moments after John. The paramedics following closely behind him.

As Dean was taken from his reluctant arms to be strapped onto the board John frantically looked around the room for Sammy. "Sam." he murmured looking over all the people "Where's Sam?" He repeated desperately. Spinning around on his heels, pushing through the crowd, trying to see everything at once.

Dean was carried back out into the crowd out of his sight by the uniformed paramedics.

"I got him Mr. Whitworth! I got him he's right here!" Ms. Kensly's voice, high and almost squeaky, over the general hubbub, sheared through Johns panic. He pounced forward through the crowd to where she was holding his youngest child as high above her head as she could, thin arms shaking with the effort. Sammy's pudgy arms extended toward him little toddler legs kicking. John snatched him up cradling him to his chest throwing a grateful look back at the bedraggled babysitter before fighting through to Dean. Rushing through the pressing bodies outside where the ambulance was waiting it's lights spinning and sirens wailing.

The drive to the hospital was a blur, before John had a grip on the situation he was waiting in a hard plastic chair staring at Dean, tiny in a hospital bed the quiet beeping of various monitors. Sammy toddled around the room babbling contentedly at everything. It hadn't taken him long to calm down once they were gathered together in an unfamiliar room once more. That was probably the only way of life poor Sammy could remember. John gripped his journal tightly bending the soft leather between his hands. Forcing back the fog of fear hovering around his mind, forcing himself to work the case.

He'd called Kensley and apparently Dean had just collapsed. He hadn't been acting oddly; just looking out the window. John did his best to consider the situation rationally. On the outside a kid collapsing wasn't something that immediately screamed supernatural. Kids get sick all the time, Dean would hardly be the first one to be rushed to the hospital for a completely normal, supernatural reasons.

They didn't have a diagnoses yet but something about it seemed unusual. He'd caught the glances exchanged by the hospital staff when they thought he wasn't looking. The reluctance to take the case from the first nurse. Randomly collapsing? John doubted the kid was dehydrated, he knew Dean wasn't malnourished. Seizures or any other medical problems didn't run in their family and besides, Dean hadn't shown any sign of them before. What was the likelihood of Dean getting some kind of fainting spell just when John knew there was something supernatural in the area? John felt a vice settle around his heart.

The soft humming and beeping of the different monitors lulled in John's ears as he waited for the doctor to come back with the verdict. To explain why his son wouldn't wake up.

"So, you don't know? That's what you're telling me?" John asked voice tight.

Dr. Lambert shrugged apologetically. "It isn't unheard of, children have very flexible nero-systems but sometimes there's a… " He paused, trying to find a way to explain in in layman's terms for the distraught father in front of him. "A power surge; if you will. Everything takes a second to reset."

He turned back to the clipboard holding the test results for the Whitmorth boy. "There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with him. Breathing's regular and his heartbeat is strong and steady. He'll likely wake up shortly of his own accord but we're monitoring brain activity all the same." Dr. Lambert assured John before turning away.

John stood watching him leave feeling distinctly unsatisfied. "Hear that Sammy?" he murmured to the toddler in his arms, keeping the fear in his voice tightly under control. "Your big brother is going to be just fine. His brain just decided to take a nap."

* * *

His instincts turned out to be right. Less than half an hour later he was once again speaking to Dr. Lambert, Dean wasn't proceeding as expected. "Instead of waking up he seems to be falling farther unconscious." The doctor explained quietly before he turned to aid a nurse through strapping more electrodes to John's eldest.

The vice around John's heart constricts just a little bit more; he can't handle losing anymore family. He pressed his hands flat to his thighs to stop the shaking, noticing the guns still strapped to his body from this morning. A great use they turned out to be. "If Dean gets through this," John thought fervently, remembering the easy routine they'd had that very morning, looking up at the ceiling. "I will dedicate his life to saving people. I will train Dean to be a warrior against darkness his whole life. Just let him have one. Please." John closed his burning eyes, pleading through a tightly flexed jaw.

Doctor Lambert interrupted John's devoted application. "Mr. Whitmorth?" Once he was sure he had John's full attention he continued. "Though physically fine, his brain is no longer doing anything except work life functions." he paused looking distinctly uncomfortable. "He appears partially brain dead."

John opened his mouth to ask what that meant but Doctor Lambert anticipated him. "Less brain function then when asleep or unconscious but more than a vegetable. A coma without visible cause." John nods to show he understands but the motion is woolen coming through without the conviction that normally coates his every motion.

The hospital staff leaves the room once Dean is all set up. "There's nothing we can do but wait for something to change. He's stable at the very least."

John nodded robotically. He wished Mary were here. She always knew what to do.

The night passed slowly with John sitting next to Dean holding baby Sammy.

"Is there anyone we can call for you?" John looked blearily up at the plump older nurse looking at him sympathetically. "Anyone you want to let know where you are? Or who could take care of the little one?"

"Uh..." John tried scratchily before he cleared his throat shaking his head "No... no thank you, It's…." He pressed his lips together to stop the trembling. "It's just us." He tried to smile reassuringly but it was more of a grimace. He could feel her pitying glance in his bones. She returned only a few minutes later with a late dinner for the two of them.

John carefully fed Sammy without touching his own. Even once Sammy stopped fussing for Dean and had fallen asleep John didn't dare nod off himself, instead he watched the heart monitor and prayed.

* * *

The nurses came in and out, checking the various monitors, making notes on Deans chart before moving onto the next patient. Dawn had just broken when there was a change.

Dr. Lambert was back early and checking the monitors grimly when he suddenly smiled. "Good news Mr. Whitmorth!" He exclaimed enthusiastically.

John jumped to his feet, clutching the abruptly awakened baby Sammy to his chest and sped to where the optimistic doctor was looking "What happened?" he asked looking over the readout as though it might decide to be legible to anyone rather than only those who had spent years learning how to read it.

"Change, Mr. Whitmorth! Change happened!" He pointed to a small spike in blue on the monitor. "That's a spike in the part of the brain that smells. It looks like he's slowly waking up."

The good news continued to come in for the next few hours. There was a spike in his eyesight though his eyelids hadn't twitched, which was odd according to Dr. Lambert. Normally that indicated someone adjusting to a dark environment using night vision if you would but any sign of movement at this point was a good thing.

"Actually," Dr. Lambert continued voice slow with confusion "Dean's whole brain output is off the charts. If I couldn't see him on the bed I would assume I was looking at a professional athletes brain; this is a match for an adult experiencing an adrenaline rush." He looked at Dean again checking the connection between im and the machine. "That can't be right," He murmured, heedless of the frantic father next to him, clicking through the scans looking for any possible explanation. "He's unconscious!"

"What's happening to my son!?" John demanded frantically looking from the complicaated charts on the computer screen to where Dean lay motionless on the bed.

"I'm not sure, his brain seems-" Dr. Lambert's confused explanation was interrupted as the subject of his dismay himself spoke.

"D'd?"

Dean's voice was always low and rough from lack of use but this time it was more of a croak then a word. John scrambled to the side of the hospital bed, quikly grasping Dean's hand.

"Dad." Dean stated after swallowing, his voice dripped with relief as John appeared at his call; sporting a dark five o'clock shadow. Dean looked around the hospital room absently for a moment brows furrowed. "Sammy?"

A sharp painful giggle danced around in Johns chest without making it to his mouth. "He's right here Dean… He missed you." He murmured ducking out of sight without letting go of his eldest small hand to pick the eager two year old up with his other arm.

"D'!" Sammy crowed eagerly, squirming to his brothers side once Dean's finally opened eyes came into sight.

Dean smiled faintly and caught Sammy's extended hands carefully bringing him onto the bed. Listening carefully as his younger brother used baby babble with an occasional word thrown in to describe the night without him.

Dean nodded along solemnly giving Sammy's report his full attention while John turned back to the Doctor after assuring himself of the immediate safety of his boys, the vice around his heart slowly relaxing but ready to tighten back up at any moment.

Dr. Lambert looked touched after watching the simple reunion between the brothers. "I don't know what to tell you Mr. Whitworth. His sensory functions are still receiving more input than I've ever seen."

John ran a hand over his face. "Is there anything we can do?"

"I'd like to run more tests before we let him go. Try to find a cause. If we can't find anything by then, which seems likely, I'll have no reason not to sign him out with a clean bill of health."

Unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth John agreed.

The good Doctors prediction turned out to be correct, despite John's mixed hopes for a clear explanation. They spent nearly the whole day in the hospital waiting for various tests to come through, they all turned up blank. Eerily so, Doctor Lambert said he'd never seen a kid in such perfect health. Dean's brain was holding steady at the higher input level without a good explanation.

John was painfully aware that had this happened before the fire he would have demanded more tests, demanded they search high and low for answers, battered the staff for attention. Now he had the disquieting feeling that _he_ had a better chance finding more about what ailed his son then any doctor. It was unnerving how the knowledge of the supernatural changed even that.

It had been a tense half hour but the phony health insurance had, thankfully, gone through. He'd have to set up another set of papers for them when they got where ever they were going next. For now he was relieved to get out of the hospital with his kids unmarred. Full, as he was with new fears about what might have happened to Dean while he looked out into the woods John looked back at his boys playing quietly in the backseat of the impala, the familiar purr of the engine acting as the

He'd used a phone at the hospital to have Kensley bring the car to the hospital for another fiver. After looking down at his painfully thin wallet John had made a silent resolution to not use babysitters as often. They apparently didn't make too much of a difference in his kids health and they were unsettlingly expensive.

It was dark once they got back to the motel, it looked like cleaning had come and put back together everything the crowd had destroyed. Thankfully all the more questionable materials of his new profession were in the newly installed secret compartment in the impala's truck otherwise that could have been awkward.

The awaiting blinking answering machine gave John a shock back to reality. He'd completely forgotten Missouri was going to call back.

"John, I made some calls and something turned up, a Bobby Singer from Sioux falls had some information on your Amarok. He says you're right 'bout everything you found and it's a solid bet on your missing persons case being an Amarok but he dug around and found somethin' else, listen to this," she cleared her throat, when she spoke again she was much more careful with her annunciations.

' A young boy wanting to improve his strength, called out to the Lord of Strength. At his call, an Amarok appeared and proceeded to knock the boy to the ground with its tail. This act caused a number of small bones to fall from the boy's body. The Amarok told the boy that these bones had prevented his growth, he gained enough strength that he was able to beat three large bears and win the prestige and esteem of his people.'

It goes on to say that the man later causes all kinds of damage killin' a whole bushel of people. You might be dealin' with more than just the wolf. If the things' managed to boost anyone in the area you might have more problems."

The message went on listing some of the other powers of people chosen by Amarok's as well as how to kill them but John missed it. Mind too busy trying to catch up with what she was telling him. About Dean.

 **A/N: Alright! One more chapter to go and the origin story is complete! Really happy with how this turned out and how quickly I was able to put it together.**

 **Once again Thanks so much for reading!**

 **I welcome criticism and love to hear from you. 3**

 **P.S. Renewed for season 15! Very exciting.**


	5. Time for a Promotion

**A/N: Well folks, this is the last chapter for this segment of the story. I've really enjoyed writing it and can safely promise to write more. It won't be for some time, I will be leaving to serve an 18th month mission for my church in a few days and will be unable to post or read till I'm done but this experience has really moved me to write more fanfiction. Also I just am so proud of myself for doing this! It was on my 'before I go bucket list" and I was really nervous about it. Thank you for making this such a positive experience with your kind reviews.**

 **P.S. I'm posting chapters four and five on the same day, so if your like me and just go to the latest chapter when a story is updated, you might have missed four.**

* * *

John kneeled down and dug his fingers into the deep claw marks breaking apart the fresh earth between his fingers. "Found you." He murmured an excited thrill running through his body.

He'd spent the last few days tracking the Amarok through the last known movements of the late hunters. Their trails were sporadic; tilting back and forth through the dense trees with no sense of direction. None of the people killed seemed to have a clear destination in mind, rather just moving around taking potshots at critters. There wasn't a lot of big game in this area either, the Amarok might have a hand, or claw, in that.

The territory was broad but he'd finally narrowed the field and gotten a hit. Carefully John reached into the pocket of his coat with his thickly gloved fingers for the first part of the banishment ritual.

He'd put it painstakingly together after several calls to Missouri about the lore around the reclusive Inuit Amarok. He'd carefully sought more information about Amaroks then he otherwise would have needed for a hunt. Under the guise of being thorough he was able to get a good handle of information on those blessed by an Amarok.

Missouri had even reached out to a couple contacts at his request who had first hand knowledge about them.

"Just to be on the safe side." John had claimed while brushing Dean's hair back from his face, he was in desperate need of a haircut. Dean's blond locks would soon be falling in front of his eyes and obscuring his vision.

Not a lot came back from Missoris search, they seemed to be close to human beside the usual extras of anyone who fooled around in the supernatural: heightened senses, stamina, speed and strength.

"Difficult to kill?" He'd asked watching Dean work on the math sheet he'd given him. Despite the current predicament John was still mindlessly preparing Dean for a second run at first grade. He'd missed the enrollment date last year, thankfully because Dean's birthday was so early in the year it wouldn't have that unusual for John to hold off another year before putting him in.

Dean's green eyes narrowed in concentration, tongue poking out between his lips as he counted his fingers. A comparatively an easy hunt Missouri reassured him. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"John?"

"Hmm? I was talking to Dean."

"Mhmm." Missouri paused, considering the possible fight before biting the bullet and continuing down what could easily be a destructive path. "John, I know you don't want me to interfere and I respect that." She sighed, and John could imagine her concerned face as her voice softened. "I know loosing Mary was, is, awful. But John, is this the path that's right for your _whole_ family?"

Feeling much less offended then he would have been at the insinuation that his self appointed job was going to negatively affect his sons, something he never stopped worrying about thank you, if his eldest hadn't recently been given supernatural powers by a giant dog John for the first time in the whole conversation spoke without hidden motives or agenda's "Missouri, trust me when I say that learning how to hunt is the best thing I can do for my children."

Missouri, beyond her psychic abilities had a rare gift derived from common sense; knowing when to leave well alone. A highly underappreciated gift that made her a much more than a tolerable person, a kind one. Despite her reservations about the wisdom of John raising his children in the hunter community she let it go in favor of telling him more about the Amarokian.

Little was known about how they transformed or got chosen for that matter, but it didn't seem to be random. They had human drive as well as human weaknesses. They were considered by many hunters as a rare but welcome break from true difficulty of most monsters. To John's dismay; Dean was in more danger from hunters then the supernatural. The casual supernatural threat would steer to easier prey, avoiding the Amarokian unless pressed. But there was more than one hunter out there who specialized in hunts like the Amarokian, looking for the comparative ease after particularly bloody cases.

This left John in an awkward place. Any edge to keep him and his boys alive in their new war on the dark, unmentionable things of the world was more then welcome. But at the cost of putting them on the radar of who knows how many hunters?

John double checked the elements of the banishment ritual around the clearing before picking up his loaded shotgun and starting to look for something to shoot at. One thing that worked in his favor on this hunt was he could play his own bait.

It was a risk while setting up but it spared him from attempting to follow the Amarok. This way the beast would come to him. Hopefully.

Contrary to popular media most of the military's time wasn't spent fighting. Rather it was spent waiting for orders; and training. Lots and lots of training. Similarly, a police officer spent much longer staking suspects then they ever did participating in high speed car chases or arresting criminals. John had harbored some hidden expectations that hunting would be different.

No such luck. Years of experience soon overwhelmed the first day shudders. Leaving John confident and cool as he listened for any unusual sounds or visuals while instinctually searching the undergrowth for the movement of small animals. He prowled near silently around his clearing. Giving the disturbed natives time to come back from where they'd run off too while he set up. He kept well within starting distance of the ritual, ready to start the banishing blaze with a full lighter. He'd taken care to prime the spells ingredients for combustion, ensuring a quick and easy burn when the time came.

The sun crossed lazily over the sky without any sign of the Amarok. John felt a stirring of discomfort before shaking it off. It would have been preferable if this could have been done in the daylight but considering the target a brawl under the moon was poetically inevitable.

John resigned himself to a long night of waiting. He did manage to catch sight of a few rabbits in his trigger sights before the complete disappearance of the sun but didn't bother pulling the trigger. It didn't appear necessary to kill anything for the Amarok to came get him and he wouldn't leave the circle to pick anything he shot up.

Later, as the night chill began to set into his bones he regretted letting the rabbit go. What if the Amarok was used to coming at the sound of shots being fired? Or could somehow sense the death of animals in his territory. Looking more carefully through the underbrush for small game just in case that turned out to be true. John, aware of his ammunition limits, took a few target practice shots in the meantime at a tree with an odd knot in on the trunk. It would undoubtedly scare anything near away but hitting the target reminded him of evenings spent shooting a beebee gun at empty pop cans when he was younger and he doubted the Amarok needed him to make a kill before it arrived.

It was only a few hours later when he made another turn around the inside of the banishing circle to face a pair of giant yellow eyes reflecting the light of the moon back at him. Hovering right outside the ring. For such a huge creature it had stepped into his clearing with ghostly silence, hardly displacing the air around it.

John's heart jumped in his chest, his system rushing to flood his chilled blood with adrenaline after hours of inactivity. Despite that, he kept still. The majority of him was filled with stupefying awe at the giant creature before him. The rest was filled with mind numbing, primal, fear. The trees behind the thick furred goliath served only to emphasize its size against the rest of the world.

He stared into the otherworldly eyes slowly reaching into his pocket for the lighter ready to finish the spell when a voice, deeper than any John had ever heard, filtered into his mind. John's eyes widened, fingers halting their journey as the great beast lowered his head to the forest floor, meeting his eyes. The giant yellow orbs were sparkling with unnerving intelligence.

"You smell like him. Your pup."

John ignored all conventional wisdom and smoothly raised his gun to point at the Amarok, the leather grip beneath his gloved fingers creaking under the pressure. "What did you do to him?" the low question was a demand. John had already lost to much to the supernatural to stand and take a threat to his son.

The yellow eyes glinted brightly against the dark fur with something that could have been anger or approval. When the beast spoke it scratched the inside of John's skull, hissing like a fox sneaking through tall grass. "He is strong now." The wolf tilted his head in a condescending question "Isn't that what you wanted?"

John snarled, unsatisfied. "Why?"

At this the beast gave pause, his own teeth, whiter, sharper, peeking out from under his lip in a wolfish grin. "You promised a warrior. I gave you one." The rough mental whisper was unmistakably laced with malicious amusement this time.

Before John could think to much about what that meant and whether it was true it continued. "I'll be there when the time comes for the pup to know himself." It's tongue slipped out, allowing John a whiff of the rank, hot breath, "Unfortunately," The voice, dripping with mocking laughter continued "You won't." just as sickly sweet with rotten meat as it's breath

John cried out in protest as the glistening fangs, near as tall as Dean, lept toward him. throwing an arm over his face against the cloud of rotten breath, sweet decay.

Flicking the lighter he'd held tight and ready in his hand the banishment ritual was set ablaze. It was all John could do to dive out of the way of the greenish flames. Even as he pulled himself behind a thick tree for cover his eyes were pulled upward as the unnatural flames danced around the Amaroks form. Ignoring the vegetation around it the flames started at the massive beasts paws and flew up it's form without burning, instead leaving thick trails of dark ash.

As more of the fire burned out John realized the dark remains behind the fire weren't ash, but rather the dark of the forest from behind shining through the building sized wolf. The beast howled in pain tossing it's huge form around, splintering the trees it collapsed against. The flames continued up its body. Soon all that remained of the beast was a single yellow eye, bright with the reflection of the coming fire but even that was consumed by the hungry flames.

The clearing showed no sign of the raging inferno that had come and swept the Amarok away. The only sign that anything unusual had happened was the damaged trees around the edge of the clearing. John stood alone looking up at the stars where the Amaroks head used to be.

"Good luck with that."

John turned and started back toward the impala, listening to the crunch of the forest floor beneath his boots. "Think you can get away with touching _my_ kid and live?"

* * *

Dean jumped up, hearing the familiar purr of the impala coming down the now deserted road. He'd listened eagerly to the traffic all day, waiting for Dad to come back. The engines of the different cars had separated easily in his ears, telling him that none were Dad. Dean had worried, paced the floor in front of the door. Dad had never left them overnight before.

"I'll be back by tomorrow afternoon. There's dinner and breakfast ready to put in the microwave." Dean had experienced Deja Vu watching Dad pack up again with the guns and ammunition. This time including the bag full of stuff from the smelly herb shop they'd went to.

"Do you remember how long to cook everything?" Without waiting for the answer Dad had grabbed a sheet of paper and put down the numbers in a row next to little diagrams of each dish. "Just in case."

He put it on the counter after going over it with Dean briefly: "If you can't find it just cook everything for 5 minutes. Then if its still cold do it again."

Dean had nodded blankly. Clutching the motel room pillow to his stomach trying to quell the nervous butterflies. He had a pretty good idea what dad was going out to do and an even better idea that it was dangerous. Sammy clicked his tongue while happily dragging the curtain back and forth, utterly unconcerned with the recent turn of events.

"Back by dinner." Dean stated into Dad's shoulder rubbing his nose in the familiar smell of leather when Dad had gone to hug him goodbye.

"Not dinner today. I'll be back before dinner tomorrow. Promise." Dad squeezed him tightly. "I've got to finish this."

* * *

He must of because he was back. It seemed to Dean that John was taking an excessive amount of time to drive in, his footsteps were slow against the asphalt his keys jangling rhythmically in his hand. Dean's patience ran out, without waiting for Dad to unlock the door himself Dean slammed the door open, jumping into Dad's arms.

John let out an exaggerated "Oof!" easily catching his excited son midair. Holding him tightly John spun around listening with a wide grin to Deans delighted laughter as his feet flew through the air.

Sammy started whining, not pleased with having been woken up this late in spite of dad being home. John led Dean back inside hushing the fussy child back to sleep before turning back to a still smiling Dean.

"Sorry I'm late. Good news is I finished the job."

After getting Dean settled into bed next to Sammy John pulled out his leather journal to write down the details of his first hunt. Dean would have questions someday. John would do his best to have the answers ready for him. He puts down everything he can remember into the journal knowing it might be important someday.

* * *

 _Four Months Later_

Dean looked over at John nervously before stepping out of the car. It was the first day of school and Dean was more than a little uncomfortable. John was too, he hadn't left Dean in anyone else's care since he'd had to be rushed to the hospital.

"Do I have to go?" Dean whined with all the impudence of a disgruntled seven year old.

John did his best to keep a stern expression, he almost managed, only the edge of a grin lurking in the corner of his eyes. Despite the recent regularity of Dean's voice John still wanted to laugh out loud every time he spoke.

"You're going to be fine. And so will Sammy and I." John told Dean firmly, leaning over to open the door. "We'll be by to pick you up when it's over." John stalled for a second running a hand over Deans newly cut hair. "In the meantime don't start anything you can't finish okay?"

Dean groaned his agreement before leaning back to hold Sammy's reaching hands.

John watched patiently as his sons participated in a lengthy goodbye ritual involving several indistinguishable phrases, Dean being a master of Sammy's limited vocabulary.

John had looked hard to find a town with several suspicious killings and disappearances nearby so they would hopefully be able to stay long enough for Dean to adjust to school before they had to move again. They were able to look for a more long term situation because of the Amaroks blessing; it made Dean less of a target then the average elementary school child to the supernatural.

That was the only reason this was going to work. John would run the handful of hunts in this area, gaining more experience and training whilst doing all he could to discreetly learn more about the Amarokian. In the meantime Dean could go to school without John worrying about him being in danger from the supernatural. Things were falling into place. He'd be able to research with Sammy while Dean was away and when Dean was home they would train, and play. John would make sure Dean was ready for both sides of his new heritage.

"Dean." He warned after a minute ticked on watching as other kids went into the small building with a fenced in playground.

Dean gave a pained groan before jumping out of the car.

John waited till he was safely in the building before pulling away. Sammy started crying as they left without Dean and John would be lying to say his eyes didn't water. Mary and him had spoken of this day. When Dean would go off to school. John hadn't ever dreamed it would be without her, but here it was.

"You'd be real proud of him."

 **A/N: Right now the future of this verse has a lot going for it I think. A few oneshots through their childhood and learning to control their powers. Sam is especially going to have trouble with that. Sam will go to school and come back with John when Dean is taken hostage by hunters. Revelations, drama. It's the story I wrote this one for. I'm really excited.**

 **Lots and lots of Love-**

 **Anna**


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